


The Voice

by Pirateweasel



Series: Grid Myths and Stories [12]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateweasel/pseuds/Pirateweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feral's memories were badly fragmented; and run_files and view_files out of order.  Now, she can remember Rinzler telling her what happened to his voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Voice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [that_runneth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_runneth/gifts).



> Gifted to That_Runneth; who understands that true strength is not about never feeling pain. It's being hurt and still not giving up.

They had finished up the patrol a while ago, and simply wanted to relax. 

No worries about the Grid, the guards, or what new order CLU would issue next.

Just…relax.

 

For most programs this might involve groups of friends, clubs, and as much energy as one could safely--- or unsafely---intake during their down cycle; however, they had never been like most programs.  They had no friends besides each other; they had almost unrestricted access to energy, and---after that last incident---did not bother to go to the clubs that the Grid had to offer.  Instead, the two of them were sitting side-by-side on the ledge outside of their room; the wall against their backs, shoulders bumping each other occasionally whenever they changed position. 

Rinzler and Feral, the Grid’s most dangerous fighters, looked as harmless as a pair of search engines as they watched the falling rain.

With a sigh, Feral shifted her position, moving to lean against her friend and partner; her head leaning against Rinzler’s chest as she brought a hand up to rest next to her cheek.  Beneath her fingertips, she could feel the almost ever-present rumble of his growl.  Rinzler tilted his head down to get a better look at her when she murmured, “I love the sound of your voice.”

‘Why?’ he signed, moving his hand so she could see the question without needing to shift her head.

“Because….” she answered with a small shrug, “it’s yours.  And since I don’t hear it often, it’s special.  ” 

The growl ratcheted louder, the distortion evident in it as the sound grew; a sure sign of agitation in the security program.  Eventually, it slowed, quieted, and finally dropped down to a sub-vocal vibration that moved through the frame of his body.

Several more nanocycles went by, the two of them unmoving; the only sounds those of the rain.  The near silence was broken by a voice; a voice that had once been a comfortably mellow baritone, and now ground against itself like sharp rocks, almost painful to hear due to the processes that identified the sounds as the jagged edges of voxels scraping against each other.

“It didn’t always sound like this,” the voice told her.

She froze, her hand tensing imperceptibly where it rested on Rinzler’s chest.

The voice continued speaking, saying, “I was ---badly damaged--- trying to help a friend.  There was damage to my throat, but it didn’t affect my vocal processes.  I was healed, eventually, and things seemed to be going better.  Then, CLU captured me….reprogrammed me.”  Rinzler’s voice was bitter now.  “He re-opened the damage to my face and throat, damaged my voice, and added code patches to repair me; only…when he did so, he left me like this.  Functional enough for him to use; yet with these _reminders_ of what he did---what he _can_ do.  And I could do nothing to stop him.”

There was a harsh laugh above her head, a laugh that caught at the end and almost turned into a sob; and it was all she could do to remain motionless, knowing that if she moved now, if she said _anything_ …he would never speak again of the things that made her partner the way he was now.              

Hearing that laugh, that nearly broken sound, come from him made her ache; and she bit down on her lower lip, desperately trying to control her own audio glitch as she listened to his voice.

“I don’t like to talk now because….it reminds me of my failures.  Every time I hear my own voice, I am reminded that he broke me, that I wasn’t strong enough, that I….that I just wasn’t enough.  I’m not enough…”

 Rinzler stopped speaking, and Feral looked up, shifting her head just enough to see his face.  He was staring out into the darkness, the ends of his tawny hair dark and clinging together from the moisture that blew into the sheltered space they occupied, his blue-grey eyes darkening as they watched the clouds rolling past.

“It’s a scar,” she said quietly. A disbelieving snort came from the security monitor. 

“I _know_ I have a scar,” he told her, a trace of self-mockery in his voice.  “It’s a little hard to miss, since it takes up so much of my face and neck…”

She shook her head, pulling back from him only far enough to do so, unwilling to relinquish her contact with him.  “Your voice…it’s a scar,” she clarified.  “It doesn’t show others a failure.  It shows us--- them---a program that was damaged, that suffered, and came back from it.  It shows that you are a survivor; and stronger than they thought.”

Rinzler’s head tilted down again, his eyes meeting Feral’s as he did.  “And what does it show you?” he mused, signing the question to her, not trusting himself to ask it out loud.

“Only what I already knew….” she told him, her voice soft.  “That you don’t ever give up… especially if it involves someone you care for.”  She gave him a small smile.  “Told you,” she said, “I love your voice; because it’s yours, and it’s special.”

Rinzler’s arms came up and wrapped around his partner, hugging her tightly.  “Thank you,” he breathed.  “How is it that you can do this; make me see things this way?”

“It’s a gift,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by his body wrapped around her.  “I tried to exchange it once; but they said there were no refunds or returns.”

He let out a shaky---if slightly confused---laugh at that, and loosened his grip enough to watch as Feral peered up at him from out of the circle of his arms.  “You okay?” she asked him.  With a small smile of his own, Rinzler nodded his head.  “Good, because we have rain to watch…” The smile grown to an actual grin now, he listened to the slight ‘squeak’ she gave as his arms tightened again in a hug.

It was his friend’s voice that was the special one, he thought. 


End file.
